Collide
by Stephane Richer
Summary: Don't stop here. I lost my place; I'm close behind.


Collide

Disclaimer: I don't own Howie Day's "Collide" or Fujimaki Tadatoshi's _Kuroko no Basuke._

Author's Note: ehh I'm a bit ambivalent about this but I can't quite place what it is.

* * *

Kise's fingers are drumming on the inside of Midorima's wrist, making Midorima's fingers jerk in response. He doesn't like it, but he's said that before and Kise doesn't stop. He's annoyingly persistent, and like many things Midorima tells Kise this seems to go in one ear and out the other. Either that, or Kise is ignoring him. Okay, it's definitely the latter because even though Kise's an idiot most of the time (okay, maybe it's only sometimes), he's observant and a good listener.

But Midorima could jerk his wrist away. He doesn't. He leaves it in Kise's hands, lets the regular rhythm lull him back into a half-asleep state. It's really cold, and he doesn't want to move. For sure, that's the only reason. And Kise's hands are warm. But Midorima's half-out from under the covers and the windows are open and the wind whips in onto his bare leg and he seizes up. Kise stops drumming his fingers and instead rolls over so he's right next to Midorima, almost on top of him, and places his arms around him.

Weighing the options quickly, Midorima decides that all dignity aside Kise is really fucking warm, like a man-shaped radiator, so Midorima shifts his weight and rolls onto his side and Kise spoons him, placing his chin on Midorima's shoulder. Midorima leans back as much as he can. The heat feels so damn good.

The outside sounds are somewhat muffled. Did it snow last night? The weather report had predicted it, and the skies had been an appropriate light grey all day yesterday. Still, Midorima had been hoping it wouldn't. He hates the snow. He closes his eyes. He has to strain his ears, but he can hear the snowplows from his current location on the seventeenth floor. Perhaps, if he goes back to sleep he'll wake up and it will all be plowed and shoveled. Of course, it's wishful thinking. It will probably still be snowing when he goes out, or at least loose flakes will be fluttering down like dandruff off the drifts and roofs and awnings. He's not looking forward to it at all.

He tries to just relax and think about how nice and warm he is now, and soon enough he's back in dreamland.

The next time he wakes up, Kise's nowhere to be found. Midorima sits up quickly; his head spins. He notices a dull, throbbing pain in his head (must be a caffeine headache) and sighs, stretches, and puts his head in his hands. While he doesn't want to get up, sleeping through the day will totally mess up his sleep cycle. He turns toward the window and, yep, it's still snowing, very hard, hard enough that even his shitty eyesight can detect the movement. The sill is covered in an inch of the stuff, although none seems to have blown in through the window screen. He swings his legs over the edge of the bed and stands up, running a hand through his messy hair. He grabs his glasses, puts them on, eyes adjusting quickly to the sharpness.

The whole apartment smells like coffee. It's inviting and almost magnetic the way it reels him in. Midorima walks down the hall to the brightly-lit kitchen, where the cold linoleum shocks his feet and a half-filled pot sits in the machine and his empty orange mug sits on top of a napkin, on which Kise has apparently written him a note.

Kise thinks this kind of gestures are "sweet" and "romantic". It's as if he expects Midorima to giggle and squeal over them like a teenage girl (or like Kise would, if Midorima ever did something like that). Still, though Midorima will never ever say out loud that he finds them cute (because they're totally not at all, no way) he can't stop a smile from tugging at his lips. Good thing no one's watching (although, in case someone is, that smile immediately turns into a scowl).

According to the note, Kise has used up the half-and-half so he's gone to the convenience store to buy more. He's also checked the horoscopes for Midorima and is buying his lucky item. Midorima checked last night; today's item is a postage stamp. They have some around the house but it's better if the item is new. Perhaps if he had bought some new ones last night it wouldn't have snowed? Again, that's wishful thinking. He can't change the past. Man proposes; God disposes. The weather is not quite in his hands. But, still, if he'd had his lucky item at the stroke of midnight…

His head is really starting to pound now. He'll just have to drink it black, he supposes. He'd rather do that than have a headache. He pours himself a cup of the hot brew and sits down at the kitchen table. The first sip burns his tongue; without milk to cool it down the coffee's much too hot. He's choked down half a cup and is starting to feel a little better when Kise, dripping wet and covered in snow, returns with the half-and-half and stamps.

Midorima grabs a stamp before anything else and folds it into the waistband of his boxers. It's probably not the best storage method available but it will have to do for now. Kise cheerfully adds half-and-half to Midorima's coffee and pours another cup for himself. He's dripping all over the linoleum, so Midorima throws him a dishtowel. It lands on top of Kise's head, half-covering his face. It's a slightly amusing sight; Midorima allows himself a small smile. Kise rubs the towel over his hair and tosses it back at Midorima, hitting him in the same spot. Midorima picks it up and puts it back on the table. They're both still smiling, though. Kise busies himself with taking off his jacket and boots, walking back into the hall and stuffing them into the closet.

Midorima finishes his cup of coffee, the rest going down easier than the first part now that it's got half-and-half. He's feeling much more awake and the pain in his head has lessened, but still isn't totally gone. He fixes himself another cup with the rest of the pot and puts away the half-and-half. Kise returns, barefoot and mostly dry. He drapes himself over Midorima's shoulders like a shawl. Being out in the cold has not made his body any colder, which is nice.

Midorima absentmindedly twines the fingers on his right hand in Kise's, keeping the left free to hold his mug. All too soon, the coffee's gone, although neither of them feels like making another pot. Outside, the snow is slowing down. Midorima can sort of make out the building across the street through the grey and white outside the kitchen window.

He checks the clock. 3:42 already, and he hasn't done anything today. No matter. He's not going outside in this weather unless he absolutely has to. He stands up and tugs at Kise's hand. He seems to think they're headed for the living room, but Midorima pulls him toward the bedroom. In the living room, they'd just end up watching TV and days like these are best spent silent except for the hum of the ambient noise from outside (which is already slightly muffled by the snow) and their own voices.

Midorima takes care to place his lucky stamp on the bedside table and then lets Kise pounce on him. But Kise wants to take it slow; this is a lazy Sunday afternoon after all. Kise's fingers are back drumming on Midorima's wrist and he's licking at Midorima's collarbone, doing a thorough job at biting every millimeter and then covering the toothmarks in kisses, then switching to the other collarbone. Midorima runs his feet up and down Kise's legs, and damn his feet are actually kind of cold. It's probably because the floors are cold; they really need to call the super about their shitty radiator. Closing the windows just makes it way too stuffy and dry to be a viable option, and Kise drags Midorima's mind away from HVAC systems and back into the present, sliding his hands up Midorima's shirt and taking it off, and then pulling down Midorima's boxers. Kise's still fully clothed but Midorima is okay with that because it means Kise's focused completely on him.

Kise's looking up and down Midorima's body, looking very satisfied, drinking it all in. The look on his face is quite arousing, and Midorima stretches an arm out. Kise catches it in his own, and Midorima moves their hands toward his mouth and places Kise's hand inside, beginning to suck on his fingertips without breaking eye contact. He knows the things he's doing with his mouth are turning Kise on, can tell from experience and from the way Kise's fingers are twitching and his whole body does a kind of mini-spasm. Midorima unbuttons Kise's jeans and pulls out his cock, runs his hands up and down it. Kise shudders and whines.

He takes his hand out of Midorima's mouth and begins to stretch him out, first with one finger and then two, then three. Midorima is wriggling and spazzing, now, too, trying and failing miserably to retain tight control over his body while continuing to stroke Kise's cock.

Kise pauses, draws back. Midorima's hand falters. He knows what to do. A few seconds later, they're in the right position and Kise's plunging into Midorima, who's lost whatever semblance of restraint he was clinging to and he's moaning and breathing hard and he can't see straight, and Kise's jerking him off with his other hand (not that Midorima really needs it, he already feels like he's on the verge) and keeps going harder and faster until he slams incredibly hard into Midorima and finishes. Midorima still feels like he's on the edge and he can't push himself farther, so he feverishly gyrates his hips and his cock is slick against Kise's smooth palm and finally he finishes, too.

They lie there, listening to each other's breathing as they come down.


End file.
